Late Snow on an Easter Morning
I am learning the solitude of black tea citrus rinds and licorice roots,
rosy finch, nuthatch and house wren quibbling at the copper feeder I hung just a day ago
before the late frost air drifted through.
I am learning the solitude of black tea citrus rinds and licorice roots,
so I dry dishes at the sink, forget the days’ count since the last pink moon.
The wood stove burns and unquiet sparrows gather in the gathering snow.
I am learning the solitude of black tea citrus rinds and licorice roots,
rosy finch, nuthatch, and house wren quibbling at the copper feeder I hung just a day ago.
Kathryn Winograd 
It looks like you’ve accepted the challenge of writing 30 poems in 30 days. This Triolet is lovely.
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I have, Neva. Whole new project now. Very good to have when it’s 14 degrees out on Easter!!
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Awesome poem–I love hearing the birds in full throat!
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Thank you! I never tried a triolet before. It was interesting: I can see how I could go back to the form and really try the nuances of it.
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A triolet is new to me. Project!!
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Okay, anonymous! who is this!!
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Stunning!
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Thank you!!
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